Winter
Fronts build off the Pacific, pounding rain into steep mountainous ranges that have been dying of thirst for months. Little by trickles, building into headstrong rivers without care. Sending mud pouring into the mighty Pacific. This is the calling card, triggering a migration of the finest specimens to ever chase with a swung fly. Any bridge crossing HWY 101 with water below calls these fish home. There are few, free flowing jewels left among us; examples of what once was. Far to off and steep for lucrative mining/logging. The Smith flows as it always has, free. Raging through gorges of classified, upon un-classified rapids, a whitewaterist’s shangri la. A higher class of fish is born. Thicker. Angrier. More elusive. Escaping the past ice age, regenerating the Pacific Northwest with all we now know. Could this be the birthplace of steelhead? Once settled from brownish-green to greenish-sapphire...
Most who seek are not ready, are you?
